


space jam

by bobaisbest



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobaisbest/pseuds/bobaisbest
Summary: Falling in love with his co-pilot is honestly the least of Taeyong’s worries.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 28
Kudos: 199





	space jam

Five years ago, Taeyong would have never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that he would be where he is now. He had still been on Earth back then, possessing nothing but the clothes on his back and the wrenching, desperate desire in which he felt, with all his heart, that he wanted— no, _needed_ to get the hell out.

It took eight foster homes, two expulsions, and the mentorship of one Moon Taeil for Taeyong to realize this: in order to achieve a goal, you had to set one first. _You’re good,_ Taeil had said, _just a little rough on the edges._ And then Taeil had smiled, a dangerous expression that set alarm bells off, ringing loud in Taeyong’s ears because nobody had ever looked at him like that— with hope and kindness. _We can fix you up,_ Taeil continued, but all Taeyong could think about was the praise he was receiving for the very first time in his sorry fucking life.

The next best thing Taeil ever said to Taeyong was: _you ever try flying?_ Taeyong would’ve, and probably still would, do anything for Taeil, who was just a visiting officer that knew talent when he saw it and still took him in after Taeyong jacked his car twice (and crashed it both times). Taeil had given Taeyong the world, or rather, the ability to see the world for what it really was and not just the way it had wrongly treated Taeyong. He would spend the next eternity trying to pay back Taeil for everything he’d done. And truthfully speaking, that would still not be enough.

By the time he was eighteen, Taeyong had obtained a flying license with the highest marks the campus had ever seen. Not even a month later, he packed everything he owned into a duffel and shuttled up and out of the atmosphere to the prestigious Intergalactic Police Academy.

On the ride up, Taeyong had briefly wondered if the food in space tasted any good. He didn’t take a single look down at Earth the whole time.

  
  


The 127 is a piece of junk that Taeyong won off a victory at some shady underground space race. It has severely worn seats, an engine that guzzles more fuel than a tractor, and a frame that creaks so hard when they take off that Taeyong is convinced the whole thing will fall apart the next time it hits warp speed. But the 127 is _his_ piece of junk. Taeyong knows this ship, front to back, almost as intimately as he knows his own body, and there’s nothing quite like it in this galaxy because the moment he figured out where to acquire fake plates, Taeyong began a grand plan to mod the fuck out of the entire thing.

It’s been sixteen days since their last drop-off. That’s nearly 400 hours of flying, less than half the threshold Taeyong usually prefers between landings, but he hangs a left at the Orion Nebula and carefully searches for a parking spot on the grimy landing strip of a privatized rest stop that Jaehyun pinned on their GPS last week. _Water showers,_ Jaehyun had marveled as he scrolled through the reviews on Interstellar TripAdvisor. _They have H2O tanks in this camp, Taeyong. We have to go._

Taeyong snorts. If Jaehyun’s vanity cost them another job, then he’d make sure to nag him into the next light year about it. Budget is tight this month and Taeyong’s not quite sure if they can afford another late delivery. But it’s probably fine— they’re ahead of schedule for once and he _has_ been meaning to stock up on supplies. The nutrition goo packs they’ve been living off are starting to run out and Jaehyun had the audacity to eat the last curry flavored one. That fucker.

The ship groans as Taeyong pulls into an empty spot between a trash hauler and what looks like the spacecar equivalent of a monster truck. The engines splutter to a halt and Taeyong reminds himself that he needs to yell at Jaehyun some more about fixing that.

The steel railings groan as Taeyong stomps down the stairs, ducking his head as he makes his way below. The 127’s cabin is hot in the belly of the ship, stale and dark. The back of Taeyong’s flight suit sticks uncomfortably to his skin and the heat creeps further up to his neck when he sees Jaehyun, stripped down to just his track pants, sprawled sleepily across the bunk. He’s snoring oh so peacefully and that only makes Taeyong feel a little bit bad as he lifts his foot and swiftly kicks the side of the mattress. 

“Get up,” he says. “We’re here.”

Jaehyun cracks open one eye, barely affected. Living with Taeyong can do that to a man.

“Already?” he grunts, moving to get up.

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you three hours to take your fucking shower,” he says. “So hurry up before I leave your ass.” And then he kicks the bed again, just for good measure.

“Give me two seconds,” Jaehyun mutters, bringing both arms up for a stretch.

He’s got a swimmer’s body, the definition of his tall shoulders and narrow hips often buried under the G-suit he wears while flying the ship. Taeyong’s eyes briefly follow the long line of his torso, down his arms and toned backside, trailing the dimples on his back and _right,_ he thinks. Supplies. He jerks his head towards the door.

“I’m going to get some food. Be back here by 0700.”

Jaehyun makes a noncommittal noise, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It’s as much acknowledgment as Taeyong is ever going to get from his drowsy co-pilot.

“Take a look at the engines, will you?” he adds, already on his way out. “They’re gonna bust the next time we take off.”

Jaehyun nods, mumbling something else but Taeyong doesn’t exactly hear what it is. His own footsteps echo loudly down the hallway as he heads to the depressurizing chamber, ready to walk on solid ground again.

With a couple of hours to kill, Taeyong figures he can go to the nearest fuel station and pay for a ten-minute shower. It’s certainly not as fancy as the nearby spa that Jaehyun had enthusiastically made a reservation at but it’s hard to argue with his sentiment as fresh humidity Taeyong hasn’t felt in months fills the air of the dingy bathroom. He stares at the face looking back at him in the fogged mirror, tired but restored. The hair on his nape grows dangerously low and Taeyong scowls at himself. Jaehyun was right, he’s treading the perilous line of a mullet and is in dire need of a haircut. It’s a good thing they’ll be seeing Doyoung soon.

After finally feeling human again, Taeyong heads to the local trading hub, which is, thank god, just an oxygenated warehouse. There’s still a crack in his helmet from last month’s bar brawl (where Jaehyun had somehow managed to piss off the local triad lord by flirting with his fourth male consort) and though small, it’s something that can’t be fixed by just slapping on some duct tape (although that does happen to be Taeyong’s chosen method with fixing everything else around the ship).

He immediately zones in on some Taujeerians, easily the biggest pushover species of this galaxy, and haggles for some parts. Then he purchases enough nutritional goo to last them into next year and even cops a pack of Nongshim Shin Black (truly a coveted delicacy this far from Earth). All in all, it’s a pretty productive couple of hours.

Taeyong returns to the 127, stocks the pantry, and promptly knocks the fuck out in the cockpit. Jaehyun should be more than happy to wake him up after his deep tissue massage or whatever.

  
  


Taeyong is seven years old, climbing up a very tall tree, fueled by a cocktail of anger and spite.

“Bet you can’t even reach the top,” the boy had teased. Taeyong didn’t even remember his name. He was mean, his words vicious and rough. A bully. Taeyong knew the best way to shut him up would be to prove him wrong.

He climbed higher and higher, the bark scraping his legs as he made it well above the height of their single story schoolhouse.

“You’re going to fall,” the bully had jeered, and Taeyong knew it was true. He felt the branches creaking under his feet.

The leaves at the top looked different, their colors more vibrant, and Taeyong was almost blinded by the sunlight. He hoisted himself up one last time and felt a little breathless as he looked down at the schoolyard, all his classmates looking back up at him.

And then he looked up, eyes roaming the clear blue sky. It was only a second before there was a _snap,_ the branch underneath him finally giving way, and Taeyong tumbled down. His leg landed funny when he hit the ground.

“Why did you do that?” Foster Mom Number Two had asked. The exasperation in her voice told Taeyong that he might be onto his third home soon.

He didn’t know how to answer her question. All he knew was that if the tree was taller, he would’ve kept on climbing.

He just wanted to touch the sky. It was as simple as that.

  
  


The intercom is ringing. Loudly.

Taeyong wakes up with a jolt, knocking over a bag of snacks that rested precariously on the dash. It sends freeze-dried chips flying everywhere, crumbs falling over the controls, and Taeyong’s pants are now stained with neon orange cheddar cheese powder— Jaehyun’s favorite flavor. Fuck!

Annoyed, Taeyong flips the PA switch on to accept the call. The screen crackles to life and Doyoung’s face slowly comes into view.

He scowls, which is quite a scary thing, but Taeyong has been friends with him for long enough to know that the poor boy suffers from what is probably the universe’s most unfortunate case of resting bitch face. Doyoung is definitely angry, but not as angry as he looks.

“What’s up?” Taeyong asks, casually brushing cheese dust off his legs. “You never call.”

“That’s not true,” Doyoung denies, giving Taeyong the ultimate stink eye. “But forget that. Why have you been stationary for more than five hours?”

Taeyong frowns, not understanding his question. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “We literally just got here—” And then he sees the time.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, hands flying up in distress. “How long was I asleep?”

“Too long,” Doyoung answers. “If you leave now, you might be able to make my secondary deadline.”

“Fuck— sorry, we’re leaving soon,” Taeyong apologizes. Confused, he looks up at his friend through the screen. “How do you even know where we are?”

“There’s a tracker under your left wing,” Doyoung answers. “Jaehyun let me attach it.”

 _“What.”_ Taeyong is going to throttle Jaehyun. “Why would you do that? What if someone starts tracking us?” 

“Yes, that’s kind of the point,” Doyoung deadpans. “It’s encrypted, don’t worry. Besides, I wouldn’t have to do this if you got my shit here on time.”

 _“Okay,_ Jesus— fine.” Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re coming.”

“That’s all I ask,” Doyoung says. He hangs up the call, but not before sending Taeyong a colorful hand gesture.

“Son of a bitch,” Taeyong mutters, sitting back in his seat to fasten his seatbelt. It’s quick and easy work, flipping the controls to get ready for takeoff. He’s about to turn on the engine when he realizes there’s a monumental problem.

Where the fuck is Jaehyun?

  
  


The spa house is a ten minute walk but that distance becomes negligible when Taeyong steps through the door and feels like he’s been transported to a different galaxy.

It’s clean, he notes. So clean and white and neat that it’s almost clinical. The patrons look severely out of place, or maybe they were right where they needed to be, lounging around in the unassuming cover of a sanitarium with such a shiny facade that no one would think twice about questioning it. Taeyong is willing to bet his left hand that’s there’s more than a couple mafia dogs hidden in this building, being entertained in private rooms.

He walks up to reception and pastes on his best smile.

“I’m here to retrieve a friend?” he asks, friendly and immaculate. “Should be under the name Jaehyun?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment,” the clerk replies, a pink cephalopod with big black eyes. She trails a tentacle over the keyboard, letting her suction cups do the typing.

“He’s in the bathhouse,” she reads off the screen. “Would you like me to call an attendant? There’s still two hours left on his reservation.”

“Ah, no thank you. I can get there myself,” Taeyong says, hiding his distaste with a polite expression. “By the way, how long was the entire booking?”

“Four hours,” the clerk answers. “Would you like to add more time?”

 _Four fucking hours?_ How much money was Jaehyun planning to spend?

 _“No,”_ Taeyong replies curtly. “He should be fine. Thank you for all your help.”

He swipes a map off the desk before stalking away in the other direction, unfolding it to reveal a maze of five floors, each offering its own array of treatments. Thankfully, the bathhouse is on this floor, so Taeyong won’t have to find himself stuck on an elevator with some random aliens. The plan here is to leave as fast as possible with as little witnesses he can manage. Taeyong and Jaehyun aren’t convicted felons, but they aren’t exactly your typical, law-abiding Federation citizens either. Especially not after pissing off the Kepler district police chief last week.

The private bath cabins are easy enough to locate. Taeyong knocks the doors to each one until he reaches the room at the end of the hall, because of course, Jaehyun would be occupying the biggest, most expensive bath the spa had to offer. Probably so he could fit himself and his huge ego.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong calls out, knocking perilously on the door. “Are you decent?”

Jaehyun’s voice percolates through the air, echoing off the ceramic tiles. “Obviously _not,”_ he answers. Well, at least they can confirm he’s not dead or kidnapped.

“We have to go,” Taeyong continues, banging on the door some more just to be annoying. “How much longer do you need?”

There’s a light splashing noise. “Oh— well, um. About that—” And there it is. The unmistakable tone of someone who has something to hide.

“Jaehyun.” Taeyong’s voice turns hard. “Open this door right now.”

“I can’t, Taeyong. I really can’t,” Jaehyun panics, uncharacteristically frantic. “You don’t understand—“

“Then explain it to me,” Taeyong says. “Or let me see for myself.”

“Oh— _fuck,_ you’re gonna freak the fuck out. You don’t understand, I literally cannot open this door for you. Just give me some more time—“

Taeyong knows that this can only end in one way.

“Jaehyun, open this fucking door or else I’m kicking it down.”

“Taeyong, do _not—”_

It’s strangely satisfying, the way Jaehyun, who is normally so smug and composed, sounds extremely distressed and _this_ close to losing it. Maybe it’s the delightful dread in his voice or the need to take revenge for making them fall behind schedule, but mostly, Taeyong just wants to be an inconsiderate asshole because sometimes, it feels good to be bad.

He shoves the heel of his boot down onto the lock, effectively smashing it, and swings his leg hard to brazenly kick the door. It bursts open to reveal—

Taeyong stares at his co-pilot, a moment of tense silence between them.

“Jaehyun,” he says. “What the _fuck?”_

  
  


Spending lots of time with Jaehyun means that Taeyong has learned to lower his already low expectations to no expectations at all. Negative expectations. The amount of trouble he’s had to pull Jaehyun out of borders on outrageous and yet somehow, someway, Taeyong still finds his expectations blown out of the water, through the air, and past the fucking stratosphere. 

He doesn’t know what he was really expecting, but it’s definitely not nine feet of tail, literally _fish tail,_ extending from Jaehyun’s lower body and growing out where his legs should be. The thinner end coils like a large serpent and it takes up the entire bathtub.

And of course, even as an alien, Jaehyun is blue, blue, blue, from his glowing eyes to the tips of his webbed fingers, dark cerulean like ink stains. The skin of his torso melds seamlessly into an expanse of beautiful scales. On the underside of his jaw are two sets of gills, flapping uselessly in the oxygenated stall. His tailfins, barely opaque against the white tile, splash flippantly in the suds. There’s a shiny quality to his skin and under these white bathroom lights, he almost sparkles.

Taeyong is unable to close his jaw. It hangs open as he looks his partner up and down, unable to process what is before his eyes. 

“Um,” Jaehyun says weakly. “Hi?”

It takes two hours in a dry environment to turn back to human, according to Jaehyun. They drain the tub and Taeyong goes to steal as many towels as humanly possible. He also has to begrudgingly return to reception and tell them that yes, they would like to add more time, just put it on the tab.

The transformation goes slow and gradual and not at all grotesque in the way Taeyong imagined. Jaehyun’s tailfins recede and human bones reform underneath the flesh. The scales seep into his skin and his entire body begins to recolor itself into the palette that Taeyong is familiar with. During the final hour, Jaehyun’s lower body splits in two and in a miracle of biology, he has legs again. 

After locating Jaehyun’s clothes, they leave quickly after tipping the attendants and after spending so much time in the vaguely moist environment of a spa, Taeyong has never in his life been so glad to be back inside the 127.

Taeyong pings Doyoung about being on their way and it’s not until after takeoff that Jaehyun decides to break the silence they’ve been holding between themselves. 

“You know, technically,” he says, casual as if speaking about the weather, “I’m not an alien. Merfolk are native to Earth. Just cause I’m not human doesn’t mean I’m an alien.”

Taeyong’s fingers tighten around the steering yoke and the worry he felt earlier now bubbles into anger. 

“Jaehyun, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey, hey! I’m sorry!” Jaehyun says, hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But it’s not exactly something I tell people right away.”

Taeyong just glares.

“Hi, I’m Jaehyun and every full moon, I submerge myself in water and turn into a mermaid,” Jaehyun continues. “How weird would that have been?”

Taeyong’s mind is going to implode. He’s so stressed that he’s barely able to navigate the 127 past stray space debris.

“Take the wheel, Jaehyun. I need a fucking minute.” He logs off the system to cradle an oncoming headache. Jaehyun shifts up to resume control.

“I really am sorry, though,” Jaehyun repeats, eyes intent on the screen. “The transformation doesn’t usually take long, but I was stuck for some reason. Probably because I waited too long.”

“And _this,”_ Taeyong gestures to Jaehyun’s body, “needs to happen like, every month?”

“Every couple months,” Jaehyun clarifies. “I think being so physically far from Earth’s moon messed it all up. I just need to submerge at least once every ninety days.”

“So last year when you asked to stop by the five-star resort with midnight pool access—”

“Yeah.”

“And the time we delivered to an aquaplanet and you disappeared for a day—”

“Yup.”

Satisfied for now, Taeyong settles back into his seat and they delve into silence. One of those uncomfortable ones that takes a grand amount of courage to break, but Taeyong isn’t feeling particularly brave today. He just trains his eyes forward and lets Jaehyun wordlessly fly the ship.

  
  


Out in space, a ton of options existed for pilots as good as Taeyong. Naturally, he settled on the most challenging of them all. Being admitted into the Interstellar Space Force had been no easy task but Taeyong had managed.

Adjusting wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t awful either. Taeyong found that he relished these kinds of habits, tests of quick thinking and hard physicals that squeezed out every last bit of rebellious energy from his body. He woke up every morning thinking about the training he was about to do and went to bed every night thinking about the next morning. It had been rare in his life to be rewarded for the hard work he did and here, he was rewarded every day.

Taeyong had been two years into the program, shy six months from graduating as a cadet, finally doing things right, when the universe had suddenly decided that it had been much too long since something terribly bad had happened in his life. Things had just been going too well, hadn’t they?

The 94th Task Force leaves for a routine mission and never comes back, leaving the entire academy to ponder openly of the fate that met its officers. In a short-worded briefing memo, Taeyong was informed of the loss of Taeil, his longtime mentor, and Officer Seo Youngho, who was practically a brother to him. Both were the only people he truly considered family and Taeyong didn’t know if this felt better or worse than losing his parents so long ago, but something in the back of his mind told him that somehow, it was much worse.

The bottom of his stomach had dropped out completely, leaving room for a black ball of despair that twisted and churned in his stomach like a knife. Being broken once was bad but letting himself be broken twice had internalized that deep black despair, letting it flow to his heart where it would remain for a very, very long time.

Taeyong had not been the only one left in shambles by their deaths but as much as he wanted to, Taeyong could not be there to pick up the pieces. He could barely even pick himself up. It didn’t take much thinking for him to do what he did next. In fact, it didn’t take any thinking at all. 

He shucked his uniform and pilfered the old clothes he hadn’t touched in years (which smelled strangely of Earth – like living in space for so long had given him the ability to recognize when something came from the surface). He snuck out of campus and hotwired a patrol ship, unofficially dropping out. He could’ve stayed— his grades were good and his future was at least mildly promising. But it’s not Taeyong if he doesn’t fuck up at least once. And it’s really not Taeyong if he doesn’t take the easy way out— running away just when things got tough. It’s cowardly, weak beyond measure, but old habits die hard and Taeyong has been doing this since he was five. 

By the time the academy realized he was gone, Taeyong was out the Asteroid Belt and well on his way to No Man’s Space. A hit had definitely been put out on his name, but it made no difference.

He did not ever plan on coming back.

  
  


Flying a ship together is all the worst parts of having a roommate, combined with the added feature of possibly dying at any moment. Taeyong has experienced the full spectrum of outlaw activity with his co-pilot: space chases, gun fights, and even that fun but inconvenient hiding thing you have to do when you find yourself caught in a gang war between two drug cartels because they found out you’ve been delivering for both. Taeyong even knows what it sounds like when Jaehyun is taking a particularly loud shit, so he thinks it’s fair to say that they’ve been through a lot together.

It’s because they’ve gone through so much together that makes Taeyong so pissed that he’s only just finding out about Jaehyun’s true nature. No, Taeyong isn’t bothered by the fact that Jaehyun is a mermaid. It’s 2119, for god’s sake, interspecies prejudice is _so_ last century. Although, of all non-human things for Jaehyun to be, it’s just their luck that he belongs to a category of food. Now Taeyong feels fucking bad for every time he ordered a Filet-o-Fish during their Cosmic McDonald’s runs.

It’s the fact that Jaehyun actively chose not to tell him. Sure, it’s a pretty colossal thing to reveal about yourself, but they’re nearly a year into cohabitation, months and months of partnership and dangerous adventure, and while Taeyong still doesn’t know what _this_ is— what it means when Jaehyun looks at him fondly and says _be safe_ before Taeyong has to go out onto the field, the bubbly feeling he gets in his chest when he promises _I’ll be back—_ he assumed it would be stronger than this. Strong enough to withstand what Jaehyun apparently thinks is a dirty little secret that Taeyong can’t handle.

He won’t lie, it hurts. It hurts to think that Jaehyun simply assumed Taeyong’s opinion of him would change. Like he would care that Jaehyun’s DNA blueprint is little more than a tiny physical inconvenience. Like things might just turn sour and he would abandon Jaehyun’s ass out here in deep space. Maybe he should, just to teach him a lesson. If Jaehyun didn’t trust Taeyong, then what was there even to say?

Jaehyun seems to be fighting a battle of his own because the two of them have devolved into a pair of schoolgirls who believed that the cruelest way to get back at someone was to give them the cold shoulder, although Taeyong isn’t quite sure what they’re exactly fighting about. He doesn’t know what the fuck Jaehyun’s problem is but it takes two to play this game and Taeyong is more than willing. After all, strip away the guns and multiple bounties they had on their heads and Taeyong and Jaehyun are nothing more than two hotheaded fools with too much pride.

It’s stupid, this strained tension that builds whenever the two of them are in the same room. Jaehyun is skittish, never fully responding to questions and evading conversation by leaving the cockpit right when Taeyong enters. They went from bickering everyday to barely speaking and there’s just something terribly petty inside Taeyong that makes him refuse to be the first to break the stalemate. It’s awful, which is why Taeyong feels so greatly relieved when they finally reach Doyoung’s base.

Olkarion is a green dot scattered among many others within the Orion Nebula. The planet is well-loved by its three suns, which allows the geography to house strata of the tropical rainforest, tropical monsoon, and tropical savanna climate zones. There’s a range of native plant species numbering in the quadrillions and the entire surface is abundant with coastlines, making it a popular beach destination. It’s the kind of place where no one would think a vampire could survive, which is why it’s a perfect hideout for someone like Doyoung.

“You’re late,” he grumbles, looking severely unimpressed as he taps out the ashes of his cigarette, a trail of smoke rising from his thin fingers. “And your hair looks awful.”

As much as Taeyong would love to grovel and cry in front of his best friend, the forgiveness of Kim Doyoung is not something earned so easily. He owes him, at minimum, an extensive explanation full of details that Taeyong doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to disclose, given how weird Jaehyun’s been acting about this entire mermaid thing—

“Sorry. It’s my fault,” Jaehyun apologizes, and Taeyong completely blanches because while this _was_ Jaehyun’s fault, he didn’t expect him to come forward and actually admit to it. Maybe he really did feel bad about the whole thing.

“Well, that’s just great,” Doyoung snaps. “Your admission of guilt definitely helps me recover the business I’ve lost thanks to your late timing.”

“I really am sorry,” Jaehyun repeats, grinning sympathetically in the most dangerous manner. It’s a devastating smile, one that lets him charm his way through police interrogations and speeding tickets.

“You’re on thin fucking ice,” Doyoung threatens. He violently stubs out his cigarette. “I expect a discount.”

“We can talk about the specifics later,” Jaehyun says, sending Taeyong a pointed look that’s surprisingly civil given the hours of silence they’ve let fester between them. “I’ll let you guys catch up.”

Well, that’s as much permission as Taeyong is ever going to get.

As Jaehyun fucks off to god knows where inside Doyoung’s huge home, Taeyong sits down for a well-needed conversation, nothing but a plate of ashes sitting between them on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung asks the moment Jaehyun leaves the vicinity.

“What _isn’t_ wrong,” Taeyong mutters. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Doyoung reaches into his pocket for a pack of Malbaros. “Try me,” he says, sliding out a fresh cigarette. “I’m all ears.”

A streak of selfishness crosses through Taeyong, one that wants him to resist Doyoung’s question. If Taeyong, who’s spent almost a year living and working with Jaehyun, hadn’t been deemed important enough to become privy to Jaehyun’s little secret, then why in the world would Doyoung deserve to know? It’s a dumb and greedy thought, because Jaehyun isn’t some video game character whose tragic backstory has to be unlocked. (Although if he was, Taeyong knows for a fact that he’s accumulated enough friendship points to know everything about Jaehyun’s sorry ass life.) But Doyoung, as someone who isn’t human himself, might have some important insight to give and in a feat of true strength, Taeyong ignores what his emotions are telling him to do.

“Jaehyun is a mermaid,” he says, figuring that he might as well put it out there.

Doyoung looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to wrap his head around the possibility. He continues looking thoughtful as he lights his cigarette, brings it to his mouth, and exhales a puff of cloying smoke.

“I see it,” he says, tilting the cig between his fingers. “Now that you bring it up, he looks kind of sparkly, doesn’t he? I’m willing to bet there’s siren blood in his lineage.”

Taeyong looks at friend dumbly. “Sirens exist?”

“Yes, they do,” Doyoung says with a tinge of frustration. “Now back to the original topic, how did this come to light?”

“I accidentally ambushed him in a bathhouse,” Taeyong replies, and now that he’s said it out loud, it does sound like he had been incredibly abrasive about disrespecting Jaehyun’s privacy. To his defense, he and Jaehyun have developed their relationship to the point where boundaries nearly don’t exist, but kicking down a door when someone specifically asked you to not open it is probably considered an asshole move.

“So you actually saw him?” Doyoung asks, surprise coloring his features. “I’ve never seen one myself. What’s it like?”

Even if Taeyong tries to forget, the image of Jaehyun as a mermaid is burned so clearly into his mind. The sight of water cascading down his shoulders, scales glittering like the finest gems, and everything had just been so _blue,_ blue like the endless sky above and blue, like the bottomless ocean below. Taeyong remembers that he had freckles, lightly splattered across his nose and cheeks, and most of all, he remembers his eyes, which shone brightly with such an intensity that Taeyong was sure he would drown. Like the ocean’s wake moments before it buried you deep under its waters, Jaehyun’s gaze had felt like he could devour him whole and Taeyong shivers at the thought.

“I can’t describe it,” he answers, and it’s not exactly a lie. “You’ll have to see it for yourself.”

Doyoung snorts. “I’ll doubt you’ll let that happen,” he comments, taking another breath of smoke. “You’re smitten with him. Clearly.”

Taeyong scowls, because this is not the first time that Doyoung has urged him to confront the fact.

“We run a lucrative consignment business and half the time, the authorities are flagging us down for black market trade. I don’t have time to be _smitten,_ Doyoung. Whatever you say, it’s not going to happen.”

Doyoung sits back in his velvety cushion (because stereotypes are unfortunately true and this particular vampire did enjoy decorating his home like a 19th century Victorian manor).

“I’d normally be more annoying about this, but there’s obviously a bigger issue at hand,” he says, blowing smoke out of his nose. “You guys aren’t speaking?”

“No,” Taeyong nearly hisses. “And I don’t know why. It’s killing me.”

Doyoung just shrugs, a casual gesture that makes Taeyong feel like his problems are being belittled. “He probably feels weird about being outed so soon. That’s most likely it.”

“Really?” Taeyong asks. “That’s it?”

“Oh, try and be sensitive for once, will you?” Doyoung says, eyeing his friend distastefully. “It’s a supernatural thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Taeyong bristles. No, of course he wouldn’t understand. He’s just a lowly human being who has no idea what it’s like for people like Doyoung and Jaehyun. Why would he know what it’s like to have supernatural abilities like superstength and breathing underwater? 

“Must be nice,” he says, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Doyoung takes another drag before responding. “You know, any other day, I’d probably agree with you. It’s pretty great being a vampire in this day and age, especially with all the new types of blood to try out here in space.” He looks at Taeyong sharply. “But I wouldn’t say the same about Jaehyun. Mermaids are pretty creatures, and people like to take pretty things apart, kill them for sport. It’s just self-preservation on his part, nothing personal against you.”

“People want to kill mermaids?” Taeyong asks, disbelieving. “Doyoung, he’s a _fish._ What could they possibly want him for?”

Doyoung seems frustrated, like he’s been asked to explain rocket science to a three-year-old.

“Why does the concept of people hunting mermaids sound like such an unrealistic fantasy to you? Just last month, didn’t you tell me that one of your shipments included a crate of unicorn horns? There’s crazy people out there who collect all sorts of things and there’s no way that Jaehyun survived this long in space without running into a couple of them. Think about it, Taeyong. Merfolk are native to Earth. Jaehyun must have his own reasons, otherwise I cannot possibly fathom why he’s gallivanting out here where he runs the prolonged risk of not having access to water. You need to talk to him, Taeyong. That’s all I can say.”

Taeyong pouts, embarrassed at being lectured like a small child but unable to protest because Doyoung is right. Of course Doyoung is right. He’s nearly a century old. He’d been alive when people still used iPhones, that’s how old he is. Doyoung has never given Taeyong a bad piece of advice and Taeyong would be a fool not to listen to him.

“How can I talk to Jaehyun when he won’t even look at me?” he laments instead. If Jaehyun didn’t want to talk about it, then Taeyong wasn’t going to pry. It clearly wasn’t his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be. “This is awful. I wish I’d never found out.”

“Well, that’s a complete lie,” Doyoung says. “Don’t make such a big deal out of this. You simply caught him off guard and saw a side of him that he was not ready to show. Think of it like seeing a girlfriend without makeup for the first time. She’s either shy or mad the first time but before you know it, she’s parading around the apartment without lashes or lipstick and you guys will forget this even was a thing.”

“Sorry,” Taeyong says blankly. “I don’t understand your stupid metaphor because I’m gay.”

Doyoung makes a noise of frustration. “Do you choose to be this difficult or are you actually stupid? If talking is too hard at the moment, then just do something nice. Buy him flowers or something. Better yet, take him on vacation. Didn’t you say it’s been awhile since you guys last took a break?”

“A vacation,” Taeyong echoes. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Of course it’s perfect,” Doyoung says. “I suggested it.” The cigarette crumbles between his fingers and his hands shake as he frantically tries to light another one.

“Um, are you alright?” Taeyong asks. “That’s the third one I’ve seen you smoke.”

“It’s actually my seventh,” Doyoung corrects, taking a deep breath once he gets the smoke in his mouth. “Drank blood from a nicotine addict. Worst decision ever.”

“Definitely not,” Taeyong argues. “Remember when you couldn’t stop doing coke?”

“Oh, I remember,” Doyoung says, flashing a smile that shows way too much of his razor sharp teeth. “But I’ve had much worse.”

“You should vape,” Taeyong casually suggests. “It’s much healthier.”

Doyoung scowls in response. “Vaping is for children,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Anyways, are you going to let me cut your hair or not?”

  
  


Taeyong met Jaehyun at a time of his life when he was very sad, very lonely, and just about ready to give up. Not that he would ever tell Jaehyun that, but if he was six drinks in, it’s not something he would deny either.

Back then, the 127 was still a generic vehicle, mostly because Taeyong had not yet acquired the kind of funds he needed to buy the upgrades he wanted. But the ship flew faster than most police jets and that’s all that really mattered because more often than not, Taeyong found himself on the wrong side of the law these days. Ironic, really, how he went to academy to catch bastards like this and now he was one of them. Taeil would roll over in his grave (if he had a grave, which he didn’t because his body was never found).

The only person he could really talk to was Doyoung. They had met years ago in the emergency room of a local hospital, right around the time Foster Mom Number One had stopped letting her boyfriend into the house, so he decided to beat a black bruise onto the left side of her face. Taeyong had only been five, but it wasn’t hard to understand what was going on. The hospital was cold and he just couldn’t stop shivering.

“Kid, you okay?” Doyoung had asked. Then he draped a thick jacket over him and Taeyong remembers wondering why the fabric felt cold (everything Doyoung touches becomes cold).

“Thank you,” he said, because Foster Mom Number One didn’t have enough money to buy him toys but she did teach him how to use manners. “Are you waiting for someone too?”

Doyoung’s eyes flashed deep red, the color of hungry vampires.

“No,” he had said. “I’m here to eat.”

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best thing to say to a small child but even at that point, Taeyong had experienced a lot worse, so he wasn’t really phased. They met again in 2116, when Taeyong’s work was still completely legal (and paid a lot less). He had been delivering shipments of mineral alcohol to a popular nightclub in Valeria when, for the second time in his life, he caught sight of that deep, deep red.

“Doyoung,” he called out. “Kim Doyoung, is that you?”

Doyoung turned around, smiling ferociously with the exact same face Taeyong recognized from seventeen years ago.

“Hey kid,” he said. “What are you doing so far from home?”

Doyoung gave Taeyong a companionship that wasn’t quite like anything else and for that Taeyong is eternally grateful. But at the end of the day, Doyoung was a vampire and vampires were not social creatures. Especially not Doyoung, who had refused membership in numerous covens simply because he did not like being told what to do. He travelled sporadically, slept for weeks on end, and didn’t do quite well in crowds. Also he was immortal, which meant his take on life was starkly different than Taeyong’s in ways that just couldn’t be reconciled.

Taeyong had never really considered himself a needy person (you couldn’t afford to be needy when you grew up sharing a bedroom with three other orphans), but suddenly, he was filled with this staggering amount of loneliness and god, it sounds so fucking sad and pathetic but he just felt so _bored_ all the goddamn time. Maybe he should get a pet, or install an AI that he could talk to when he had nothing to do.

In the end, he had done none of those things. A satisfied customer referred Taeyong’s services to someone in the underworld and he soon found himself busy hauling drugs all across the solar system. If he was going to be depressed then he might as well be depressed with extra zeros in his bank account.

It had been the biggest job he ever worked. Two metric tons of plutonian methamphetamines, passed off without a hitch at the edge of the cassiopeian ghetto. He was on his way out when the local sheriff stopped him at planetary borders.

“What the fuck,” Taeyong muttered to himself as he pulled over at Saturn’s outer ring. “Is my taillight out or something—”

“Oh, they’re probably looking for me.”

The voice came from behind, so Taeyong turned his head and promptly screamed.

“Who are you?” he cried, coming face to face with the most handsome man he had ever seen.

Jaehyun was thin back then, possessing all the telltale signs of someone who had been on the run for weeks, maybe months. But even through his gaunt frame and the dirty metallic of his worn out spacesuit, he was still quite good-looking. His lips looked soft, like the inner petals of a flower, and his hair was somehow gorgeous, even as it stuck to his forehead with sweat. And most striking of all were his eyes, honeyed gold in the light, a color that belonged to glory and worship. There was no way this man was completely human. An ironic statement, now that Taeyong thinks back to it.

“Sorry,” the beautiful man greeted, a sheepish look gracing his face. “My name is Jaehyun. I snuck in while you were offloading your cargo. Can I hitch a ride?”

There was a brief moment of stark silence, an instant in which Taeyong’s mind struggled to comprehend what exactly was happening in his ship. By the time he finally got a grip, there was an officer banging on the window.

“Get the fuck out!” Taeyong screeched. And at the same time,

“Hands above your head,” the patrolman ordered. “You are under arrest for harboring a fugitive.”

“You better step on it,” Jaehyun advised, already sauntering forward to make himself comfortable in the copilot’s seat. “That’s a felony charge you’re facing here.”

The imminent danger kicked Taeyong’s body into autopilot, although his brain was still busy having a nuclear meltdown. 

“I have nothing to do with this,” he hissed, shifting the gear into reverse. The 127 backed up with a lurch and took a sudden nosedive as Taeyong pulled the joystick as far back as he could. Two patrol vehicles followed in pursuit. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“I really am sorry about this,” Jaehyun apologized, flashing what Taeyong now knows is Jaehyun’s signature sleaze smile. There were dimples which showed prominently on his cheeks and honestly, this man could not be real. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“How about you figure out a way to lose this chase?” Taeyong cried, zigzagging his flight path as the patrols started raining open fire.

“Good idea,” Jaehyun agreed. Then he ducked under his seat, ripped open the control panel, and plucked out two wires.

“What are you doing to my ship?” Taeyong asked, bewildered and hysterical. “Are we going to die?”

"We’re getting out of here," Jaehyun replied. "Buckle up!”

And that was the only warning Taeyong had before something impossibly bright overtook the 127. The light was blinding and his entire body suddenly flew forwards. Taeyong’s face gracelessly met the windshield and his nose had broken immediately on impact.

“I told you to buckle up!” Jaehyun later protested when Taeyong angrily held up the hospital bill.

“I barely had any time to react,” Taeyong seethed. “How are you going to pay for this?”

“I would pay for it,” Jaehyun said good-naturedly. “If I had any money.”

And then he smiled that clever smile that had no doubt gotten him out of a million situations before but oh _no,_ Taeyong thought, he was not letting this bitch get away.

“You’ll stay on my ship,” he commanded. “And work off your debt.”

“Doing what?” Jaehyun snorted.

“I don’t know, general labor? What was that thing you did earlier? It seemed pretty handy.”

Jaehyun blinked. “Oh, opening a wormhole?”

“Yeah, whatever that is,” Taeyong said, the cogs in his mind spinning as he tried to figure out how he was going to make this work. “Just help me out for a month. I have an extra bunk in the ship.”

“You’ll house me?” Jaehyun considered, deep in thought.

Taeyong looked at him irritably. “Yes, how else will you help me around the ship?”

“I’m wanted,” Jaehyun warned. “There’s people everywhere looking for me.”

“Join the fucking club,” Taeyong snapped, thinking about the three new bounties that just got slapped on his own head. “I know how to stay off the radar. Now are you in or not?”

A moment of contemplation.

“I’m in,” Jaehyun decided. And that had been that.

Aerospace travel by wormhole is banned in all four quadrants of the Milky Way, explaining why Taeyong was never taught how to open one. The fact that Jaehyun knew, however, spoke volumes about the kind of work he did. The man is just full of surprises like that. Maybe that’s why Taeyong has let him stick around for so long— let him stay for far longer than the original month they agreed on.

Not that he’s complaining, of course.

  
  


Despite the war waging between them, it’s not difficult for Taeyong to corner Jaehyun. After all, there’s only so many places you can go on this tiny, tiny ship.

“Nope,” Jaehyun says, turning to leave the bunks. “We are _not_ doing this now. Don’t you have a ship to fly?”

“Don’t leave,” Taeyong pleads, scrambling to block the doorway. “It’s on autopilot. We need to talk.”

Jaehyun crosses his arms, an expectant look on his face. “Alright, talk,” he says, and the scripted apology Taeyong had in his head suddenly flies out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. Jaehyun raises a single eyebrow. _About what?_ he seems to say, so Taeyong continues,

“I shouldn’t have kicked down that door. Doyoung says I probably spooked you and I feel really bad. I— this is…”

He fidgets, looking down at his hands. It takes all the courage in the world to raise his head, to meet Jaehyun’s gaze, drown in his deep honey gold eyes.

The ship is usually filled with the sounds of their arguments, petty bickering and banter that they never went a day without. The silence they share now is stifling and it almost feels lonelier than it felt back when Taeyong was truly alone. It’s burdensome, having the knowledge that someone is with you but they do not want to be.

If Jaehyun really wanted to leave, he could. Taeyong wouldn’t stop him. But if there’s so much as an inkling that he wants to stay, Taeyong will hold onto it and never let go. It’s awful, living out here by yourself. Taeyong has lived his whole life trying to be independent, to build himself to the point of not needing anybody, but out here is nothing but black emptiness. It would be easy to succumb, to suffocate in its deep sorrow and endless void. But when has life been easy for Lee Taeyong? He’s lost many things, things he couldn’t fight for. But he can fight now, and he’ll fight as hard as he can.

“I don’t want this to change anything between us,” he says honestly. _Can we go back to how we were?_

Jaehyun sighs, running a hand through his oily hair. In his efforts to avoid Taeyong, he’s been spending more time in the engine room and it’s clear that he hasn’t been getting enough rest.

“I’m also sorry,” he admits. “It’s nothing, really— I think. I just really wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t like that the choice was taken from me.”

“It’s not nothing,” Taeyong argues. He takes Jaehyun’s hands in his and they are so, so warm, like a beacon back to home. “It’s an effort, okay? We’ll make more water stops. I’ve already cancelled our next two deliveries. Let’s take a vacation.”

“A vacation?” Jaehyun asks, wrinkling his nose. “Taeyong, we don’t take vacations—”

“I called Jungwoo.”

“You did?” Jaehyun asks, suddenly full of interest.

Taeyong met Jungwoo a couple months ago, when Jaehyun agreed to indefinitely stand in as 127’s temp co-pilot in exchange for a “quick and easy favor”.

The favor had not been quick nor easy. Jaehyun just needed Taeyong to “swing by” the infamous Galilean Moon Prisons and “pick up” his friend, Jungwoo. In plain English, that meant facilitating a jailbreak out of one of the most heavily guarded prisons in the galaxy.

Upon first sight, Jungwoo is a weak-stomached teddy bear with the personality of a daisy and absolutely no tolerance for the kind of violence Taeyong is used to. But then Jaehyun hands him a plasma rifle and with the galaxy’s cleanest precision, he obliterated the patrol pods pursuing them with no survivors left behind, and Taeyong slowly started to understand why Jungwoo had been trapped on that prison in the first place.

But he’s retired now, apparently. He’s left that life behind him and retreated to the mountains of New Neptune, deep in the valleys, where he unexpectedly decided to open—

“A hot springs resort?” Jaehyun looks astonished, like he can’t believe what Taeyong is saying. “Are you serious?”

“I made reservations. Do you not want to go?” Taeyong frowns, already regretting the boldness of his decision. “There’s private baths, if you feel uncomfortable about— you know. Or I can just cancel them, you really don’t have to—“

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun interrupts, and oh, now he’s smiling. Not that sleazy smirk or charming grin that gets him extra drinks at the bar. A true, honest-to-god smile, where his whole face lights up and his eyes disappear behind joyful crescents. Taeyong could cry.

“I would love to go on vacation with you.”

  
  


Taeyong has a recurring dream. It goes like this:

He is seven years old. The classroom bully has just dared him to climb the tallest tree in schoolyard and Taeyong figured it would be easier to prove him wrong than to start a fistfight.

He grapples awkwardly at first, swinging his short limbs for the branches and letting the bark scrape his knees. He gets the hang of it eventually, though, and starts scaling up the trunk at considerable pace. The branches creek under his feet but he doesn’t look down.

He climbs until there is no tree left to climb. The leaves rustle as he poked his head out of the canopy. Above him is the blinding sun and the stark blue sky.

 _I’m at the top,_ he thinks, reaching his hands to the sky, _but I can go further._

And like the universe had decided to grant him this one wish, he starts to fly. He floats, up and up and up, until he’s in the atmosphere, staring down at Earth. It does not look like home. 

He turns to space, dark and speckled with stars and nebulas and planets for as far as the eye could see. This is not home either. _But,_ he thinks, following the path of the moons and comets with his bare fingertips, hydrogen and nitrogen bursting through his hands, _it could be._

_It could be home._

  
  


Jungwoo greets them warmly with a glass of wine in one hand and a gun in the other.

“Duck,” he says, and Taeyong and Jaehyun both crouch down low as he shoots the large lunar spider hanging right above their heads.

“Infestation?” Taeyong asks as he observes its twitching corpse.

“It’s comet season,” Jungwoo sniffs, wiping down the barrel with a lace handkerchief. “Brings all sorts of terrible creatures, but I’m lucky to have Xuxi around this year. Honey, would you get their bags?”

“Of course,” Lucas says, following closely behind. “Let me get those for you.”

“Sorry we missed the wedding,” Jaehyun says, handing over his suitcase.

“Don’t worry, we still got your gift,” Jungwoo smiles. “But the wedding was beautiful. It’s a pity, you know?”

It really was a pity. Jaehyun had gone through the trouble of getting them custom-tailored suits, only to have the purchase go to waste when the 127 got caught in a Venusian volcano eruption the day before the event. It was nobody’s fault, really, but Taeyong felt genuinely bad. He really wanted to know what Jaehyun looked like in a suit.

The days and nights on New Neptune are nearly fifty hours long. It’s easy to lose track of time here, to sleep excessively or stay out too much, and Jungwoo warns him exactly of this when he pulls Taeyong aside after dinner.

“The longer he’s submerged, the longer he’ll take to transform back,” he says, pulling his silk shawl tighter around himself. “Just keep your eye on the clock. I know mermaids are pretty, but don’t get too distracted.”

Of course Jungwoo knows. They’re good friends after all.

Taeyong blushes bright red, his mind spluttering like a backed up car engine. “That’s not— I don’t, we’re not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” Jungwoo says, looking surprised and yet, not surprised at all. “Was it a mistake to book you the royal suite?”

Taeyong glowers. “This was all Doyoung’s idea. Don’t drag me into this—”

“Doyoung?” Jungwoo says, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Do tell him to stop by, if he has the time.” What a joke. Doyoung is immortal, he has all the time in the world.

“You’re married,” Taeyong points out, and Jungwoo just throws his head back and laughs.

“Don’t you know? Lucas quite likes Doyoung too.” He pushes Taeyong to the end of the hallway. “Now hurry along. I’m sure Jaehyun is tired of waiting.”

The royal suite boasts its own private spring and Taeyong steps out to find Jaehyun sitting at the edge, feet hanging just above the water. 

“Were you waiting?” he asks, sliding the door shut behind him. “You really don’t have to.”

“But I think I do,” Jaehyun says, smiling like he’s holding a secret in his hands, pressed over his heart. “You should get in the water first.”

“Alright,” Taeyong says, biting back a comment about how weird this all is. Everything is all so new and he doesn’t want to break this fragile conciliation between them, not when he’s finally got Jaehyun talking to him again.

He disrobes carefully, folding the fabric neatly before placing it on the stone tiles. Steam wafts from the pool, humid and foggy and hot, and his body slides in easily, like dropping into bed after a long day at work.

“How is it?” Jaehyun asks, still perched above the water without an ounce of moisture on him. Taeyong makes a noise of confusion.

“It’s nice. Why aren’t you coming?” he says, half considering pulling Jaehyun in himself. “What are you waiting for?”

Then Jaehyun sheds his robe too, tossing it behind him carelessly, and Taeyong tries not to stare too long at his body, the carve in his collarbone and flex of his biceps. Jaehyun could be a statue, honestly, made in the image of gods and worshipped for his beauty. But his skin is warm and his heart beats and he’s much too real to be just a myth, even if his eyes are the color of precious gold.

“I was waiting for you,” he answers simply, dipping his legs into the water. “Because I think this is something you’ll want to see.”

The water welcomes Jaehyun, cascading through his body, nearly engulfing him whole. Scales travel up where his legs once were, now drawn out in the shape of a serpent's tail, and his fingertips grow sharp, longer and thinner and webbed. Gold one second and blue the next, like a halo of tears, dripping down his face. Silver dusts his cheeks, satin and sheer, and Taeyong finds that he loves and fears the same thing, eyes the color of tide, calm before the raging storm, ultramarine and thundering with temper. A prince of the sea, ripped from his home, bearing the weight of a crown heavier than this world. The ocean beckons for her children, waits for their return home, and Taeyong could fall for such eyes, full of such promise and pain. Jaehyun cocks his head, a wilted flower, and those cerulean eyes disappear behind his crescent smile.

“What do you think?” he laughs. “Have I left you speechless?” He’s beautiful like this, bathed in the moonlight, and Taeyong would be a fool to not steal this image for himself, immortalize this very moment for memories to come.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, submerging further to disguise the flush in his chest. “I don’t want to blow up your ego.”

Jaehyun glows in the light, amusement reflecting in his eyes. “It was an honest question. But now you owe me something.”

“I do?” Taeyong asks, watching the water ripple out toward Jaehyun. It laps at his skin, wet and warm, and he suddenly understands what Jungwoo had meant.

“Yes,” Jaehyun says. “I’ve let you see this, and now it’s only fair that you return the favor. Something about you.”

“Something about me?” Taeyong says, surprised. “What is there that you don’t already know?”

“Oh, you know. Some things, here and there.” Jaehyun waves his hand. “What were you trying to do in the two years before you met me?”

It’s cute that Jaehyun thinks there’s something more interesting to know about his sad, miserable life. Eventful? Sure. Interesting? Nothing to write home about, especially when every story ended in the exact same way it started: with Taeyong floating through space, lost and alone.

“I just worked. You know this,” he says lamely. “I tried to save money. Maybe saw Doyoung every couple of months. You know how it goes.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “But what I don’t know is why you stayed out here when going back down would’ve been so much easier. Were you staying for Taeil?”

Taeyong laughs and it doesn’t sound bitter. Just a little wistful. “He’s the only reason I left Earth’s atmosphere,” he replies. “I would’ve followed him to the ends of the universe, but now he’s gone somewhere that he can’t come back from. That’s all there is to know.”

“You think he’s still out there?” Jaehyun asks, and it wouldn’t be the first or even the millionth time Taeyong asked that question himself.

“I thought about looking for him,” he admits. “But I didn’t know where. That stuff is classified, you know? They couldn’t even tell us where he was before he disappeared.”

“But if you knew, would you look for him?”

Odd, Taeyong thinks, why Jaehyun would ask that. “Why? Would you come with me?”

“Of course,” Jaehyun says, not an ounce of hesitation. A sympathetic smile graces his features. “I wish I could meet him.”

Taeyong looks at the sky, New Neptune’s three moons hung at the precipice, guarding the celestial gate. _Moon Taeil,_ they had said, talented, smart, and kind. _You belong up here, with all the Moons of the universe. They love you, just like you love them._

“Yeah,” Taeyong sighs. “I know he would’ve loved you too.”

  
  


Truthfully speaking, the possibility of going to space had been in Taeyong’s mind for a very long time, long before meeting Taeil. He remembers looking up at the night sky in rare moments of peace, breath stolen away by the stars. He read books, visited planetariums (when he could afford it), and thought a great amount about what lies beyond the skies. It had been easy for the final frontier to become idealized in his head - if he couldn’t have the life he wanted here on Earth, then he would surely find it up there.

To an extent, that had been true. Taeyong did find what he wanted. For a short period of time, he had a family, a future, and a purpose. He gave himself goals and the universe had miraculously provided the reasonable means to achieve them.

That life had been happy, but brief. Ephemeral at best. The environment changed but Taeyong did not. His life still managed to fall apart in a matter of seconds, just like it did in the past. And what was the point, really, in trying to build anything when it would just crumble down like a house of cards, every fucking time.

Taeyong is good at many things, like piloting and picking fights when he shouldn’t. But what Taeyong excels at is losing things. Namely, the things that are most important to him. Too many times he’s seen what he treasures most in his heart slip through his fingers and no matter how hard he grasps for where it once was, no matter how hard he chased it, they would not come back. Taeyong is good at losing things and never finding them again, and above all, Taeyong is best at blaming himself.

It clings to him like rain that never dries, a heavy cloud hung over his shoulders. Taeyong has long since given up on trying to find a home, because what is a home but something that eventually breaks? A fragile little thing, there one second and gone the next. A home is hard to wish for when he knows he can’t stay.

Maybe at some point, a long time ago, Taeyong had wished for a home. He wished for a lot of things. There were many things he wanted to see happen. And at the time, they didn’t seem that far off.

He wanted to finish school. He wanted to earn his badge and he wanted to make Taeil proud, shake his hand during graduation and tell him the truth— _I would be nothing if not for you._

He wanted to go back down, not soon but maybe years later, and visit his family. He thought about polishing the headstone and placing flowers on the ground around it, likely barren as it was when he left it behind, so long ago.

Space had seemed to stretch out time in the oddest sense, days turning into weeks turning into months and suddenly, three years had passed. Taeyong doesn’t remember what the oxygen on Earth tastes like. But maybe he had wished to experience that again, to feel the solid ground beneath his feet and give the planet another chance. To let it be the home it had never been before.

There is an empty space in Taeyong’s chest where his wishes used to be. The chasm is deep, vast like the number of things Taeyong has denied himself over the years. His heart often aches, aches for what once was, aches for what is lost.

But as he looks across the water, fondly at the sight of Jaehyun, he realizes that today, his heart aches for a completely different reason.

  
  


Jungwoo ends up throwing them out early.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he says, genuinely apologetic as he distractedly beats a moon moth to death with a paper fan. “But it’s just so terrible this year, we’re going to have to call an exterminator—”

“No worries,” Jaehyun says, side-stepping the pile of slaughtered exoskeletons that they’ve left in the hallway. “We’ll get out of your hair. I just hope you get everything sorted.”

“We’ll try our best,” Lucas beams as he sweeps everything up with the broom he just used to kill a glowing cockroach. “Thanks for stopping by. You should come again, preferably when the comets are all far away.”

“We will,” Taeyong says, and it’s not an empty promise. He means it.

They get the 127 into airspace easily enough, but the hard part comes after: figuring out what to do with the time they have left. There’s an entire week before they have to get back to work and Taeyong has something in mind, he just doesn’t know how to say it.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, ever so observant in this tiny ship that barely holds two people. “Why are you fidgeting so much?”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Taeyong says, fidgeting.

“Spit it out,” Jaehyun goads. “What do you want to say?”

Taeyong throws his hands up, an admission of guilt. “Nothing! I just think that we could maybe benefit from some...shopping.”

Jaehyun tilts his head in confusion. “Like, at the space mall?”

 _“No,”_ Taeyong says, shaking his head. “More like grocery shopping. Housekeeping, mostly.”

“Alright.” Jaehyun holds out an open hand. “You got a list of something?”

Taeyong reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled paper, one he had scribbled and pored over the past couple nights when he thought Jaehyun was asleep.

Jaehyun takes the list, examining it. He narrows his eyes, squinting at the words.

“This is...” he begins, voice full of skepticism. Taeyong’s heart begins to pound for no apparent reason.

“This is everything you would need to build a submersion tank,” Jaehyun finishes. He no longer sounds skeptical but there’s a crinkle in his brow. Taeyong wants to smooth it out.

“It is,” Taeyong confirms. “Don’t you need one?”

“I don’t _need_ one, per say. It would just be nice...”

“So let it be nice,” Taeyong argues. “Who doesn’t want nice things?”

“Just seems a little unnecessary...” Jaehyun trails off. “I thought I’d just figure it out as I go. I mean, who knows where I’ll be in a couple months—“

“What do you mean?” Taeyong interrupts. “You’ll just be—”

He stops. The words catch strangely in his throat.

“I’ll be what?” Jaehyun asks.

_You’ll just be here, won’t you?_

“Keeping you around is cheaper than finding another copilot,” Taeyong amends. “We’re getting the tank anyways. Don’t see why you wouldn’t stick around.”

“You want me to stick around?” Jaehyun leans closer, probably trying to impose a threat in his question. All it does is make Taeyong’s face feel hot.

“Sure,” he says. “You could do that.” _You should do that._

Jaehyun leans back in his seat and puffs out an exhale. It seems like enough of an answer. Taeyong keeps his eyes on the dashboard.

“Alright,” Jaehyun finally says. “Let’s get that tank.”

  
  


There’s only one place that does custom jobs without charging obnoxious amounts of money plus your first-born and it’s a tiny car shop that sits on the border of the Cartwheel Galaxy, run by a pair of best friends who look way too young to be making it out here in space on their own.

“Why do they call it a car shop when no one in space drives cars?” Jaehyun asks as Taeyong carefully backs into the garage.

“Stop distracting me,” he says, trying his best not to run Donghyuck over. “It’s an Earth term that carried over to broadly imply a shop that repairs all sorts of vehicles. Obviously. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Jaehyun smiles.

Taeyong rolls his eyes as he cuts the engine. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty. For a fucking fish.”

The garage is criminally loud for a space that’s supposedly occupied by only two people. There’s fans whirring in the background, trap music blasting from the speakers, and a radio tuned into the local station.

_“—authorities report an increase in underground activity, led by a key figure known only as Johnny—”_

“It’s been awhile,” Mark greets, turning the volume down as he wipes sweat off his forehead. He’s an adorable child who looks vaguely fifteen but is actually twenty. It’s weird to see the kid he met at the Canadian missionary on Enceladus slowly growing up but really, there’s no other mechanic in the universe that Taeyong would trust with the 127.

“Too long,” Taeyong says, smiling as Donghyuck joins them too.

“I’d say not long enough,” Donghyuck snorts. “Got your message. The fuck you need a big tank for? Transporting fish?”

Jaehyun smiles wide. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Must be some special fish, for a tank this big,” Mark comments. “You guys carting exotic animals or something?”

“Yes, very exotic,” Taeyong huffs, ignoring Jaehyun’s peal of laughter behind him. “Can we talk prices?”

“Sure,” Donghyuck answers. “We can talk about that while Mark draws up the blueprints. And of course, we’ll give you a discount. Or better yet, we could do it for _free—”_

“For what?” Jaehyun asks, ever eager to save money.

“For doing what you do best,” Donghyuck replies airily. “You know, drop some stuff off, pick some stuff up. Pretty standard. We’d do it ourselves but I need to be here at all times and Mark—”

He leans over into Mark, who yelps miserably as Donghyuck lifts his pant leg, revealing a nasty bandage that’s wrapped halfway up his calf.

“Mark is in no condition to drive.”

“I’m fine!” Mark insists, shoving Donghyuck away. “Just a couple weeks, and I’ll be better.”

“What happened?” Taeyong asks, scrunching his face in concern. Everything they do here is legal, but it’s not uncommon to have a shady customer come by every now and then. If someone out there wanted to hurt Mark—

“I got attacked by a lunar spider,” Mark mutters, turning red with embarrassment. “It’s comet season, okay? These things are crawling everywhere. I swear, it’s like the entire quadrant turns into Australia this time of year.”

“Uh-huh,” Donghyuck snipes. “We’ve been running low on shit ever since Mark here decided to let a furry monster make out with his leg.”

“Don’t call him that!” Mark exclaims. “You’ll hurt his feelings!”

“You _kept_ the spider?” Jaehyun nearly shouts.

“Yeah, we keep it in the back,” Donghyuck says, waving flippantly in the direction of the storage room. “Thought it might be cool to teach it some tricks, you know?”

Taeyong just sighs.

“We’ll do the deliveries,” he decides, placing a consoling hand on Mark’s shoulder. “It’ll probably go by twice as fast if Jaehyun and I fly anyways.”

“Awesome,” Donghyuck says, practically sparkling as he reaches into his pocket for a set of keys. He tosses them over with little to no aim.

“What’s this?” Jaehyun asks, catching them in an impressive feat of flexibility.

“Keys to our spacepod,” Donghyuck replies cheerfully. “Your ship is on lockdown until we can get measurements. Hope you like flying rotorcraft.”

Taeyong sighs again. He hates flying rotorcraft.

  
  


They’ve only finished the first delivery but Taeyong is already _this_ close to ejecting his co-pilot out of the pod.

“Move,” he says, elbowing Jaehyun hard in the ribs. The cockpit in this thing is fucking tiny and Taeyong can barely breathe.

“Fuck off,” Jaehyun spits back. “I need my space— woah. Look down.”

Their flight path takes them over Proxima, an exoplanet discovered at the beginning of the 22nd century that was found to miraculously host liquid water and breathable air, allowing it to be christened with a second name— Second Earth. The planet is prosperous, flourishing, and above all, unexplored. Taeyong has never seen it with his own eyes.

“Wow,” he says, marveling at its coral oceans. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I pushed you down there? Ten bucks says you turn pink instead of blue.”

Jaehyun wrinkles his nose. “That water has more nitrogen than oxygen. I wouldn’t be able to breathe in that ocean.”

“Join the fucking club,” Taeyong says, rolling his eyes. “Some of us have to actually keep our heads above water—”

The end of his sentence clips when their entire starboard is hit with an innumerable force.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Taeyong exclaims, scrambling to right the pod back in its axis.

A round of ammunition follows his question, raining damage on the fortified panels of their aircraft. They maneuver the pod into a defensive position, finally gaining visual sight of the enemy.

It’s three jets, rusted steel and chipped paint making it obvious that they don’t belong to any kind of police or military. But in the grand scheme of things, appearance mattered little because these ships weren’t made to shine; they were made to fight. Their mounted guns gleam threateningly and right on the canopy of the middle jet flies a foreign flag.

“Pirates,” Jaehyun observes. “They’re bounty hunters.”

Taeyong feels the color drain from his face. 

“Impossible,” he remarks. “Mark’s garage is fortified against radars. How did they find us?”

“Must’ve followed us,” Jaehyun speculates as he scrambles to turn on whatever meager shields this pod had to offer. “Probably waited for us to leave before they ambushed. Maybe they hacked Doyoung’s tracker.”

“I knew that tracker was bad news,” Taeyong mutters, immediately grabbing the controls. Then he realizes something very unfortunate.

This pod is impossible to navigate. If it was the 127, they’d be out of here in two seconds. But they’re here, stuck in Proxima’s orbit inside a piece of junk that’s built to haul cargo and nothing else. It’s not even armed, for fuck’s sake, and Taeyong’s mind races at the speed of light, trying to piece together an escape plan but coming up with nothing.

“Jaehyun, do something,” Taeyong panics, adrenaline kicking in fast as he struggles to maintain an erratic flight pattern, dodging the bullets as best he can with this shitty navigation system. “Can’t you open up a wormhole?”

Jaehyun makes a noise of denial as he swipes his fingers across the control board, searching for a solution. “This pod runs on a solar battery the size of my fist. There’s not enough power in ten of these to generate a wormhole.”

Taeyong grits his teeth as he tightens his hold around the joystick, taking a deep nosedive into the atmosphere of Proxima. If they didn’t have speed on their side, then maybe they could try their luck with flying through terrain.

They don’t make it far, though. The fighter jets are quick to follow, slicing through the air with lightning precision. They corner the pod before it reaches solid ground, still floating far above the water. The guns charge up again and Jaehyun stands in the direct line of fire. Time seems to stop and for a moment, the universe stands still.

Taeyong has never really minded the possibility of death. There was a period of time where he even welcomed it. For this reason, it might’ve made sense for him to do what he did next. After all, there was a lot in this universe that mattered more than a meager human life.

But truthfully speaking, Taeyong had not considered death at all. The reality is that in the moment, he simply looked over at Jaehyun, vulnerable in the face of danger, and decided that he would do anything to protect this boy. Taeyong can’t remember the last time he ever felt so sure of himself. Maybe he’s never been this sure of himself, because he has never felt this way about anyone else. The decision was made before he could even think about it.

“What are you doing?” Jaehyun asks, confusion in his tone as he watches Taeyong reach over the control panel.

Taeyong flips a switch and the rotors immediately reverse in direction. The pod jolts backward, nearly spinning 180 as it struggles to correct itself, and the only thing that matters now is that their positions are now entirely flipped.

The bullets make impact and Taeyong’s entire body is introduced to a new world of pain. The last thing he sees is Jaehyun, shocked and horrified as he watches Taeyong tumble out of the wreckage, down to the ocean.

  
  


Taeyong has a recurring dream. It goes like this:

He is seven years old, scaling a tree taller than three stories. His classmates stand around the trunk, pointing up in awe and disbelief. They yell, saying it’s dangerous, he’s going to get in trouble, but their words fall on deaf ears because Taeyong has never been good at listening to other people.

The bark scrapes his legs as he climbs, sharp and unforgiving on his scabbed knees. His arms nearly give out when as he wrestles for balance, but Taeyong struggles with every breath in his tiny body and pulls himself up onto the next branch.

Sunlight peaks through the leaves. As Taeyong conquers the last stretch, he looks above him to see the vast blue sky. It is open and bright, offering far more freedom than he ever thought was possible. In the moment, he so desperately wished he could fly.

The relish of liberty lasts only a second before the branch beneath him gives way, snapping from his weight. Taeyong falls backward, reaching for the leaves but finding no purchase.

He blinks and suddenly, there is no blue sky. Just pink ocean waters, coming closer and closer as he plunges to his death.

Taeyong looks above and sees Jaehyun, arm outstretched in a futile attempt to reach him. The cotton skies of this planet are pink too, reflected in the perfect image of the oceans below. The wind whips his hair as he tumbles down and in that moment, Taeyong realizes that he very much fears how cold the water will be. How cold death will feel.

Taeyong falls into the sea below, accepting oblivion, and the waters cradle him like a child. All his life, he thought oceans were cold, merciless and violent, killing men who dared brave them, but this ocean is warm, like the palm of a mother’s hand, outstretched in invitation. Warm, like a home, welcoming him back.

Taeyong closes his eyes, accepting this too.

  
  


When Taeyong opens his eyes again, the first thing he registers is the stark whiteness which surrounds him. The second is Jaehyun, asleep at his bedside, holding his hands tightly.

Maybe it’s because he’s supernatural, or maybe it’s just inherent within him, but Taeyong always thought Jaehyun was beautiful. Even like this, he’s much too pretty. His face swollen from sleep, his eyes red from crying. It’s flattering to think that Jaehyun would cry for him.

“Hey,” Taeyong whispers, nudging his arm. “Wake up.”

Jaehyun is slow to rise. A gaunt tiredness frames his face as he blinks awake, much like the exhaustion he carried when they first met, but possessing something much sadder.

“Taeyong…”

His face crumples into tears. Is it anguish? Is it relief? Is Taeyong actually dead and Jaehyun is mourning his ghost? Or is he alive and this is all too real? All Taeyong knows is that somehow, he’s committed the greatest sin, making someone so beautiful cry like this. He feels flustered. He needs to fix this.

“Jaehyun, look at me,” he says, tugging the hand where their fingers are still intertwined. “It’s okay.”

“I almost lost you,” Jaehyun cries, sobbing but still managing to look so, so pretty. “You can’t do that. You can’t do that anymore. You’re human, Taeyong. You’re so fragile. I can only lose you once, but I think that would break me completely. I can’t lose you, ever.”

His eyes are Taeyong’s favorite shade of blue. Taeyong used to like that deep honey gold but to be honest, he’ll love whatever color Jaehyun’s eyes decide to be. He’ll love anything that Jaehyun is. He loves Jaehyun. It’s as simple as that.

“Is this a confession?” he chuckles, bringing his free hand to pet Jaehyun’s hair. He pulls him in by the neck until their faces are mere inches apart. “You can just say that you love me, you know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaehyun sniffles. “I’m pretty sure you confessed first by saving my life. You’re an asshole. God, you’re awful.”

He comes closer, bumping their foreheads together. Taeyong almost goes cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact but eventually, he just closes his eyes and lets the feeling wash over him. A year ago, he would’ve run away from something like this. But now, it’s all he wants.

“You’re so awful,” Jaehyun repeats. “But I love you.”

And then he kisses him, long and deep and hard. _Is it supposed to be like this?_ Taeyong thinks, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at the taste of Jaehyun’s tongue in this mouth. Aren’t first kisses supposed to be gentle? Romantic and ceremonious?

This is not gentle. It’s rough and filthy and it feels too long overdue. Taeyong release a soft moan when Jaehyun grips a hand in his waist, bringing their chests together. There is an entire symphony is coursing through his veins, cymbals crashing with a rush of flutes—

“Oh my god!” a voice cries from the door, effectively ruining the moment. The sound is accompanied by the sight of Mark and Donghyuck, shielding their eyes.

“Glad to know you’re well enough to suck face,” Donghyuck snipes as he steps gingerly into the sterile room. He’s wearing scrubs and now that Taeyong gets a better look at his surroundings, he realizes that he has no idea where they are.

“What is this place?” he asks, gazing at the state-of-the-art medical equipment around him. “Who brought us here?”

“Oh,” Jaehyun remarks, turning a little pink. “About that— ”

“You guys didn’t respond to any of our calls, so we came to look for you after a couple of hours,” Mark explains.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck adds. “Imagine our surprise when we track down our broken space pod to the middle of a pink ocean, where Jaehyun, who is apparently a _fish,_ was crying over your dead body.”

“Merfolk aren’t scientifically classified as fish,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, anyways,” Donghyuck says, waving a dismissive hand. “We sent out a distress signal since it’s kind of hard to lift a mermaid and almost-dead body out of the atmosphere without some kind of help. Especially when Mark over here’s only got one functional leg.”

“And you wouldn’t believe who answered,” Mark excitedly says right as the doors slide open, revealing a tall figure that’s all too familiar—

 _“Youngho?”_ Taeyong says. His jaw nearly drops to the floor.

“Haha, that’s me,” Youngho says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I go by Johnny these days though.”

His hair is longer, his stature more gaunt, but it’s unmistakable. This is Youngho— warm eyes, kind smile, and long legs. Youngho, who trained his ass off and taught him how to dogfight. Youngho, who is in front of him right now and very much alive.

“I’m—” Taeyong stutters, shocked into speechlessness. “I thought you were gone. They said that you were…”

“Oh. About that,” Youngho says, like his presumed death was nothing but an afterthought. “There’s probably someone else you should also talk to as well.”

He steps aside to let another person in through the door and Taeyong’s mind goes completely blank.

It’s impossible. Simply unimaginable. Taeyong’s run into a lot of strange things throughout his life— aliens, vampires, and even mermaids. He’s in love with one, for god’s sake. But nothing in his twenty-five years could have prepared him for _this—_

“Hello, Taeyong,” Taeil says. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> this honestly started out as a klance fic (virtual cookie if you can guess which nct member is which vld character) but there weren’t enough people in the og paladin group to write the story I really wanted so now we have this :)
> 
> as always, thank you for reading until the end 💚


End file.
